


Stuttering, Smirks and Something to Talk About

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Awkward Silences, Crack, First Dates, Fluff, Hogsmeade, Humor, M/M, Matchmaker Pansy Parkinson, Mutual Pining, The Big Question, Truth or Dare, Yule Ball, kind of, lots of them - Freeform, wow that's an actual tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-03-23 11:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As Romilda flounced away, flanked by a horde of sympathetic followers and trailed by a wave of giggles from anyone who had been witness to her rejection, Ron nudged Harry in the side.“Not that it wasn’t a good idea,” he began hesitantly, “but, y’know, you actually don’t have anyone to go with…”“I know,” groaned Harry, burying his face in his arms. “What else was I meant to do though?”“Now you actually have to ask someone!” crowed Ron delightedly. “Ooh - I know - Malfoy!”(Featuring a savage rejection, a game of truth or dare and a meddling Pansy Parkinson.)





	1. Chapter 1

It had all started when Harry had turned down Romilda Vane's most  _ generous  _ offer to accompany him to the Yule Ball. Harry was certain it was the most humiliating experience of his entire existence.

“I was certain you were going to ask me,” she had proclaimed – just loud enough for  _ the entire Great Hall _ to hear - “but I didn't think you'd be brave enough. I know I can be a bit… intimidating.” Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she shrugged graciously, with a benevolent smile on her face. “Makes sense, I guess,” she had reasoned, as if thinking out loud. “How  _ embarrassing _ it would have been if I had turned you down… Loads of people have already asked me of course – absolutely  _ tons _ – but that's to be expected.” She preened, and then made a thoughtful expression. (Harry  _ assumed _ that was what she was going for; to him, Romilda looked constipated at best – she was probably incapable of moving her face at all under the layers upon layers of make-up she had caked on it.) “However, I must say that I was hoping to go with you – and now you've  _ asked… _ ” Just as Romilda was about to open her mouth again, presumably to accept 'Harry's' offer, he had desperately blurted out the first semi-believable excuse that had come to mind.

“I’m actually going with someone else,” he announced, trying to sound confident and self-assured. It came out weaker than he had anticipated, quiet enough that he had to clear his throat and repeat himself.

“I’m going with someone else,” he said again, and Romilda reeled back as if she’d been physically struck. Quickly assuming the face of one who had been injured beyond the realms of forgivable, she turned heel dramatically, her eyes already filling with the tears Harry reasoned she had learned to produce on command. She paused, likely hoping for him to call out and beg for forgiveness - like  _ that _ was going to happen. Harry stayed resolutely silent (although, after noticing the Weasley twins dramatically reenacting the scene across the Great Hall - and becoming incapable of tearing his eyes away - it was growing increasingly harder to not burst out laughing).

As Romilda flounced away, flanked by a horde of sympathetic followers and trailed by a wave of giggles from anyone who had been witness to her rejection, Ron nudged Harry in the side.

“Not that it wasn’t a good idea,” he began hesitantly, “but, y’know, you actually  _ don’t  _ have anyone to go with…”

“I  _ know, _ ” groaned Harry, burying his face in his arms. “What else was I meant to do though?”

“Now you actually have to ask someone!” crowed Ron delightedly. “Ooh - I know -  _ Malfoy _ !” Laughing to himself about the ridiculousness of the suggestion, he utterly failed to notice the contemplative look forming on his friend’s face.

* * *

It was the day before the Yule Ball, and the Gryffindors who were not planning on attending the next day had all gathered in the Common Room for an impromptu game of Truth or Dare, the official worst game in all of existence. (Those who  _ would _ be attending the ball were up desperately polishing their shoes or - in Neville’s case, desperately trying to learn how to waltz.)

By now, Harry was growing increasingly panicked. He still hadn’t found a date to the ball, and was afraid of the retribution Romilda’s bordering-obsessive crowd of ‘followers’ would undoubtedly unleash were it to be revealed that he had been lying to their Supreme Ruler. To be fair, he hadn’t been looking too hard.

A couple of rounds into the game (and a couple of illicit Firewhiskies each later), the group made a ‘unanimous’ decision to go around to the other Houses’ Common Rooms to see what they were each up to on - in Dean’s words - ‘this  _ fine _ night to be alone’.

Harry couldn’t help but notice the wistful glance the boy had shot at Seamus before glancing away just as quickly.  _ Like that was anything new!  _ The two of them had been tip-toeing around each other since second year, for crying out loud! In third year, Harry and Ron had started a bet on who would ask who out first, but voided it midway through fourth year (when they had seemed no closer to a resolution than a good two years earlier) on the grounds that there was just too much mutual longing between the two for it to be amusing anymore. The rest of Gryffindor found it almost tragic, and had seemingly decided to try and rectify the situation by frequently making pointed remarks about Dean and Seamus’ relationship - or lack thereof - whenever either of the boys were in earshot. Some of the more crude remarks occasionally made them blush, but on the whole, the two seemed resigned to spend the rest of their time at Hogwarts pining over the other in silence.

They went to Ravenclaw first, persuading the door to open through rather… _creative_ answers to its riddles. A group favourite must have been (in answer to the almost-requisite “Where do lost objects go?”) “Into Ron’s pathetic excuse for a suitcase!” judging by the raucous laughter that followed it. Ron’s blustering excuses were accompanied by his fervent apologies (“It was only _one time_ , Dean; it was only a… um… a watch?” Spluttering, Dean had responded by chucking one of the many (hardback) books scattered around the floor back. “It was a family heirloom you prat!”)

Spurred along by the promise of Butterbeer from the kitchens, a group of Ravenclaws quickly joined the steadily growing party. Fred and George eagerly went to fetch more food from the kitchens, returning with the Butterbeer and equally guilty grins stretched over each of their faces. Sheepishly, they tried to explain that “The house-elves… don’t want to cook?” - but this argument was somewhat contradicted by the crumbs dusting their robes and a smear of what Harry thought was strawberry jam smeared in Fred’s hair. (It was hard to tell; the colours were altogether too similar to distinguish much.)

A subdued bunch of Hufflepuffs were next to join their party, found clutching mugs of rapidly cooling tea and mourning their lack of dates to the Ball.  _ This _ time, when the twins went to fetch ‘the required sustenance for such lamenting’, Hermione suggested that Ernie went with them with the excuse that they should share the knowledge of how to get into the Kitchens.  _ Shockingly _ , this time the three of them returned  _ with _ food. (“The elves must have… changed their minds!”)

Finally, it was only the Slytherins absent from the melee. Perhaps because of the Butterbeer, or maybe from the group spirit that came from each one of them being mutually alone at the upcoming Ball, the group decided to venture into the depths of the Dungeons to enquire as to whether any of the ‘cold ones’ (“What’s wrong with calling them that; it’s absolutely freezing down there!”) had any remote interest of joining their group for the evening.

To Harry’s surprise, the dungeons were not, in fact, unbearably cold, damp  _ or  _ dark. When he mentioned this, however, he was only met by a serene “Well, you can’t expect it to be; if it was then all the Aphsbeaks would nest there…” from Luna. (To this, he had no reply; she said it with such certainty that Harry was  _ almost _ convinced that it was true.  _ Almost _ .)

Fortunately - or at least, three-quarters of them thought it was fortunate -, a brave Gryffindor argued (and right;y so, in Harry’s opinion) that the greenish hue tinting the light in the dungeons was rather… off-putting. (“I have a phobia of… green things! Really - what was that, Hermione? Yeah… pra…si…no..phobia! That!”) To their relief, the other houses backed them up, and the Slytherins unwillingly agreed to relocate temporarily to one of the larger Gryffindor Common Rooms.

When they arrived, a fire was already crackling merrily; the elves must have heard Malfoy’s loud complaints about how many  _ bloody stairs _ there were and lit it before they arrived. Preemptively halting another of Hermione’s tirades about SPEW and its  _ utmost importance in the Wizarding community _ , George reappeared with yet  _ more _ Butterbeers.

For a few hours, all was calm. Everyone was occupied in harmless conversation, and some adventurous souls even dared venture away from the small but very distinct clusters of Houses to branch out into different groups. Slowly, as the clock ticked towards midnight, people trickled away to bed, bidding goodbyes to the quickly dwindling remainder of the group. The majority of the Hufflepuffs left first, and then the Ravenclaws, with only a few staying behind. Next went the Slytherins, grumbling about the  _ long and arduous journey _ they had to make back to their dorms. Again, only a couple remained.

When almost all of the Gryffindors had retired to bed, Harry looked around to see who was left; out of their original sixty-odd students only six others were still there; from Gryffindor were only Ron (of course) and Dean and Seamus (still as inseparable as ever). (Hermione, lf course, was absent; although she had come out with them originally, _she_ had a date to the Ball - even if she wouldn’t say who with.) As well as the Gryffindors, there were _some_ from other houses: Luna, sitting off to one side and humming to herself; Pansy, midway through an angry rant to - _oh_ \- Draco. _Of course._ _Of course_ he _had to be there._

Ever since the horror that was Romilda’s self-invitation to the Ball (which Ron had solemnly declared to have been ‘chaotic evil’), Harry had become more and more uncomfortable around Draco.  _ Whatever that meant, he had  _ no _ idea. _ He supposed it must have stemmed from Ron’s offhand comment about him and Draco - meant purely to mock his rather  _ unfortunate _ situation - but he just  _ couldn’t _ shake it off… 

An awkward silence descended as the remaining students realised how empty the Common Room had become - and, more importantly, who was left there.

Unsubtle as ever, Pansy broke it with an undignified coughing fit, leaning against Draco with faux-helplessness. The boy buried his face in his hands. Once she had ‘recovered’, Pansy opened her mouth in preparation to announce… something. Before she could actually utter a sound, though, Draco looked at her with his eyes wide, and clapped a hand over her mouth.

“No.”

The others looked up in varying states of interest. Luna merely glanced at the two of them and then returned to her book, but Harry kept watching curiously as Pansy shook Draco’s hand off and smiled sweetly.

“Please, Draco?  _ They _ might not mind…” 

“No. I’m perfectly certain - utterly certain, in fact. No one but you would enjoy it. And on that note, perhaps it is time for us to take our leave.” Going to stand, Draco stopped suddenly, and Harry had to cover his  _ own _ mouth to stop himself laughing when he saw Pansy’s hand grasping the sleeve of Draco’s robes. Her eyes were wide and her smile hopeful - and she was radiating a aura of  _ ‘I will legitimately dismember you if you don’t sit back down. Right. Now.’ _ Harry could feel it from all the way across the room, and wondered whether  _ all  _ the Slytherins were given Manipulation Lessons, or whether it was just Pansy’s family in particular.  _ Or maybe she was just a natural at it. _

“Fine. Go on then. Prove me right.” Draco sat down with his legs stretched out languidly in front of him, reclining on one arm and already adopting the unbearably smug expression of one who was certain they were correct.

Harry would do anything to wipe that pretentious look off his face.

* * *

Pansy’s suggestion was to be expected, really. At least, Harry should have expected it. (If he had, though, he would have escaped before it could have begun.) Really, It was one Harry should have seen coming from the get-go; what else did he suppose that the seven of them would do? As little as he wanted to join in,  _ that _ was what Malfoy had predicted, which automatically invalidated such a course of action. It dawned on Harry that his only option was to play; he  _ couldn’t _ prove the smug bastard right - he just  _ couldn’t. _

Looking across at Ron, he could see a similar conclusion forming. Seamus and Dean agreed readily just to piss Malfoy off, and Luna - well, Luna seemed rather nonchalant about the whole thing, but placed her book down carefully and came to join them.

“I think  _ I’ll _ start,” Pansy began authoritatively. “Draco, truth or dare?” A wicked grin had formed on her face, and Harry almost -  _ almost _ \- wished he hadn’t agreed to this.

* * *

“Will it never end?” cried Draco dramatically. “There  _ are  _ other people here, you know.”

“But Draco,  _ Draco _ , I’m sure none of them have done anything quite as humiliating as this. Come on, you did pick truth, you know.”

“Fine, fine. I surrender -  _ stop glaring at me Pansy! _ \- I was six and I didn’t know what I was doing. Everyone does stupid accidental magic! Father had returned from a long trip with the Ministry and I was running to meet him but there was a bloody great peacock in the way - you know how it is around the Manor -, and I guess it just… happened?”

“What  _ exactly _ happened?” prodded Pansy, her gleeful tone betraying that she knew all too well what came next.

With a long suffering sigh, Draco finished his story. “I… I transfigured him into a peacock. I was excited, okay?” Turning away slightly, he added under his breath: “ _ -not that I would be now, of course _ .”

They all heard.

Clearing her throat uncharacteristically loudly, Luna spoke next (much to the others’ relief). “I thought that sounded absolutely  _ delightful _ , Draco. Such a complex spell to perform - were you were near any Wrackspurts perhaps?” Her tone was curious, but luckily not inquisitive enough to require an answer; Draco wisely stayed silent. Picking her book back up, Luna stood up suddenly, and bid goodbye to Harry and Ron, her voice sleepy. As she made her way to the portrait hole, she turned back around. “Have fun at the Ball, Harry!”

Harry started to protest, but before he could complete his hurried “I’m not -” she had disappeared.

Probably trying to avenge the frankly astounding amount of embarrassing tales Pansy had forced him to share, Draco latched onto the new subject. “Hey Potter, surely  _ someone _ must have asked the Boy Who Lived to the Ball?” To Harry’s surprise, he didn’t sound mocking or sarcastic; simply curious (…well…maybe  _ slightly _ mocking - but that was a vast improvement on the usually copious amounts of sarcasm he had grown to expect).

“Oh - haven’t you heard?” Ron leapt at the chance to recount what was now a well-known source of hilarity in the Common Room. “Okay, so Romilda basically tried to force Harry to go with her so he said that he was already going with someone and now he can’t show his face tomorrow because he was lying and Romilda’s evil demons-friends from the Hell will probably try to lynch him or something when they find out.” He took a much-needed breath and continued conspiratorially. “ _ She took the rejection rather badly _ .”

“I am utterly shocked,” said Draco, dead-pan.

“Really, Draco - you hadn’t heard?” (Clearly the sarcasm was lost on Pansy.) “Practically  _ everyone _ ’s been talking about it - he was  _ brutal! _ ”

Draco had the decency (or at least admirable acting ability) to look slightly taken aback. “Potter; really? Wouldn’t have expected  _ that… _ ”

Defensively, Harry tried to protest. “It wasn’t  _ that _ bad?”

“Is that a question, Potter? No? I thought as much. Honestly, one would have  _ hoped _ that the Boy Who Lived would be at least  _ slightly _ more articulate than an a common street urchin; perhaps that’s why the only person willing to accompany you to the Ball is  _ Romilda Vane. _ ” The distaste in Draco’s voice was evident, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh grudgingly.

Malfoy looked taken aback. Obviously this wasn’t going according to his plan - a plan, Harry assumed, required him to take great offense at the majority of what Malfoy said.

Taking advantage of Malfoy’s momentary state of confusion, Pansy leapt at the opportunity to start badgering Harry about what he could do about the Ball.

After a solid few minutes of her talking at him, he had started to tune out, and saw Ron creep stealthily up the stairs to the dorms.  _ It was okay for  _ some _!  _ He glanced over to a sofa near the fire to see Dean reading a discarded book whilst Seamus was just  _ looking _ at him. (Every time Dean glanced up Seamus ducked his head and pretended to be paying attention to Harry, Draco and Pansy’s conversation, but as soon as Dean returned to his book he would continue gazing longingly towards him.) Dean’s knee was jigging up and down, and his hand was tapping a nervous rhythm on his thigh. Finally, Harry couldn’t take it any longer.  _ Someone should have done this a  _ long _ time ago _ .

“For Merlin’s sake, Dean, just  _ do it _ already!”

Dean’s head shot up, his face quickly turning beet-red. “I don’t know what you’re t-talking about!” he cried. It would have been much more convincing if he hadn’t been looking Seamus when he was saying it; if he hadn’t stuttered as Seamus brought his hand up to brush a loose strand of hair out of his eyes.

Harry sighed.  _ Well, he shouldn’t have expected it to be  _ this _ easy, surely. _ “Fine; Dean, I  _ dare _ you to do it. Better?” He knew Dean well enough to know that he would never back down from a dare - and this gave him an additional excuse in the impossibly unlikely event that it didn’t go how he had planned.

Dean gulped nervously, just as Seamus looked up at last from his book. However, before Seamus could ask what was happening, Dean had carefully extracted himself from the sofa and walked over to the discarded Firewhisky. Picking up one of the more full bottles, Dean drained it in one, and hurried back over to Seamus, who was standing now, and looking increasingly more confused.

Dean took a deep, steadying breath. His hands were balled into fists as his sides, and he looked more indecisive than Harry had ever seen him. Mostly, Dean looked  _ scared _ \-  _ terrified _ , even. His eyes were darting around and he was obviously trying not to make eye contact with Seamus. By this point, though, too much had been said and done to go back.  _ (By this point, Seamus could probably have worked everything out by himself, if he hadn’t been intent on being so bloody oblivious.) _

_ This was it. _

“Seamus? Do you - would you - have you thought about -  _ oh fuck it all.  _ You; me; tomorrow; the Ball?”

Seamus’ face was priceless.  _ Like he had said, bloody oblivious. _ “But - but you - wait - what?!” Honestly, he looked utterly bewildered.  _ As if Dean could have simplified the question any further… _

Slowly, Dean repeated himself. Draco and Pansy were watching the spectacle avidly, and if - Merlin forbid - Pansy had had a camera, there would have been photos of this all around the school at this point.

It took a third repetition for Seamus to process what Dean was saying. When he began to answer, his voice was breathless, his hand going up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.

Their audience watched on in silence..

“…Um…sure.” He smiled tentatively at Dean, whose shoulders sagged with relief. Harry let out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

Pansy, with trademark enthusiasm, whooped loudly as the pair left hurriedly to ‘talk’ in private…Just as they went out of sight, Harry saw Seamus reach down tentatively and link their hands together, and caught a glimpse of the bright smile that Dean gave him in return.

“That was nice!” commented Pansy with the all the tact Harry knew and… didn’t  _ hate  _ anymore, surprisingly.  _ This evening was truly going in entirely unexpected directions. _ “Only the three of us left now, and I know  _ just _ what to do.”

Harry just looked at her; by now he knew not to indulge her in a reply - but that rarely stopped her.

Seemingly changing the topic entirely, Pansy asked suddenly, “Don’t you think they looked  _ happy _ , Harry? To have someone to go with to the Ball?”

Harry nodded apprehensively, and Pansy ploughed on, now asking Draco the same thing. He merely grunted what could only dubiously referred to as an affirmative, but Pansy brushed past it to ask Harry something else - or, rather, to _ tell  _ him something else.

“You’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you Harry. Of course you are - too much stubbornness and too few brains for anything else.” Brushing away Harry’s indignant objections, she continued. “Aaanyway; where was I? Oh yes: Gryffindors. Surely that means you can no more refuse a dare than Dean could, right? So… I dare  _ you _ to ask  _ Draco _ to the Ball.”

Both parties immediately started protesting vehemently, and Draco stood up, evidently intending to walk out. His face was steadily turning the Weasley-red (the humour of which Harry was too aggravated to appreciate).

“Quiet, children.” Pansy’s voice was laced with mirth but her tone was commanding and sure. The boys duly fell silent, resorting to staring daggers at her (and resolutely avoiding making eye contact with each other). “Now, I think it’s safe to assume you both…strongly  _ object _ , let’s say, to this. But don’t you think it would be  _ interesting _ ? And, Harry, it would definitely… surprise people tomorrow - really give them something to  _ talk  _ about - if that’s what you were trying to achieve. As for you, Draco, this would  _ obviously _ not be…  _ beneficial _ for  _ dear  _ Lucius’ reputation, would it? And you’re staying at Hogwarts this Christmas anyway - what’s to lose?”

At that, Draco stopped trying to surreptitiously sneak out of the Portrait Hole and adopted a thoughtful expression. “It would certainly be… a  _ shame _ were this to get back to him, wouldn’t it? …Yes, I think I actually agree with you on this one, Pansy…”

Harry had reached a similar conclusion. What better way was there to get back at Romilda and her cortège? _But_ , shouted one part of his brain, _this was_ Malfoy _! Your arch nemesis!_ _Remember him?_ However, most of him agreed that it would, as Pansy put it, _interesting_ to say the least. And Draco didn’t seem to object… 

“Okay.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

They weren’t sure who spoke first, but Pansy looked spectacularly unimpressed. “Um,  _ no _ , you have to actually ask him yourself, Potter. I did  _ dare  _ you to…”

Harry had thought they had past the ‘Humiliation’ stage of the evening. Evidently he had been wrong.

“Alright, al _ right. _ ” By this point, there wasn’t really much to lose, was there?

Under Pansy’s watchful  - and insistent - gaze, Harry stuttered through the required question. It took so many repetitions for Pansy to be satisfied that Harry lost count, randomly adding more and more superlatives and complements into each one in a desperate attempt to  _ make her stop. _ At last, she deemed it acceptable, and he was pushed unceremoniously towards Draco.

It was admittedly  _ not _ his finest moment (though it paled in comparison to a  _ certain incident that Ron was never to speak of for fear of painful retribution and/or death _ , which culminated in the two daring each other to run to the astronomy tower at midnight… naked. Professor McGonagall had caught them – probably alerted to their excursion by Peeves' maniacal shrieking). Pansy’s slow clapping after Draco at last deigned to answer, smirking, with a nod - after the ordeal  _ Harry  _ had to go through - only made it even worse.

_ Tomorrow would be… eventful. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 'long awaited' finale, featuring sub-par (read: absolutely appalling) dancing, an uncomfortable realisation and yet more dares...

Harry hadn’t paid any attention _whatsoever_ in  Professor McGonagall's impromptu dance lesson; he had instead opted to skulk in one corner with Dean (who, unsurprisingly, had spent the majority of the hour glaring at the girl who just so _happened_ to be waltzing with Seamus). The two had spent the entire class trying to look as unapproachable as possible, and Harry had successfully managed to escape at the end of the lesson mostly unscathed. He hadn’t even _wanted_ to dance with anyone, he had told himself afterwards, thinking _not at all_ enviously about the other pairs of dancers. He’d probably have been awful anyway.

Harry regretted this line of thinking; now he was clumsily stumbling around as if he had not _two_ but _four_ left feet, Thestral-style. _Make that_ drunk _Thestral-style._ As he took a step backwards, trying desperately to pull himself - and Draco - away from the the gaggles of tittering girls who were _undoubtedly_ mocking his technique (or rather lack thereof) whilst trying to avoid admitting out loud to Draco how much he _could not do this_.

Draco was not cooperating. Instead of gracefully accepting that Harry was just _not_ cut out for dancing - if Harry could even use the word to describe the mess of what he was trying to do - Draco seemed _determined_ to drag at least a _couple_ of half-decent steps from Harry if it was the last thing he did. (From the amount of steadily more-creative cursing he was muttering under his breath, Harry was convinced it might _actually_ be the last thing he did.)

In contrast to Harry’s ‘appalling level of incompetence’, Draco seemed to _actually_ know what he was doing. Harry supposed he must have received mandatory lessons. (Of _course_ he had  - God forbid a Malfoy being anything less than perfect at something.) _Or maybe he was just that good - NO. Nope. Harry was_ not _going_ there _._

* * *

Ever since Pansy had shoved the two initially-reluctant boys together (admittedly, it _had_ been less than 24 hours ago) Harry had become decidedly... _less_ indifferent towards Draco. It was quite alarming, to say the _least_. He had gone as far as to mention Malfoy’s name (only in passing) to Ron over breakfast - which led to the latter choking violently on the pumpkin juice he had just swallowed, turning white, and - once he could breathe normally again (which took a good couple of minutes) - asking whether Harry was ‘consorting with the enemy.’

His tone had been outraged, but Harry couldn’t stop laughing at the sight of Pigwidgeon, who had arrived just on time to be doused generously in the juice Ron had spilled everywhere. The indignant squawking could be heard all through the hall and, noticing all the heads turned his way, the owl had attempted to return to the peace and quiet of the Owlery. However, all the juice in its feathers had weighed the tiny bird down so much that it was unable to fly properly ( _although, to be fair,_ Harry thought, _Pigwidgeon had never been the_ best _flier - the many incidents involving a closed window were easily brought to mind)._

It was only in retrospect that Harry realised he must have referred to ‘Draco’ in front Ron - instead of with the customary, cursory ‘Malfoy’ (which was usually accompanied by a sneer from the boy whenever he was present to hear his name - not that Harry payed _attention_ to these things, of course. That would be absolutely _absurd_.)

* * *

A smug, self-satisfied smirk was slowly etching itself onto Draco’s face with the realisation that Harry was entirely unaware of what he was meant to be doing. “It’s like _this_ , Potter,” he drawled - though, to Harry’s surprise, the expected sting that usually came with his’s last name didn’t arrive.

Really, it _shouldn’t_ have surprised him.

In response, he just shrugged - and made sure to tread heavily on one of Draco’s feet a few moments later: “I’m just so… what was it?... ‘ _clumsy.’_ I just _can’t_ help it.”

Pansy, blatantly eavesdropping on the couple from her tactically-chosen seat just off the dance floor, silently congratulated herself. Once their bickering ceased to entertain her - _because what else_ was _its purpose?_ \- she switched her attention to the _second_ most talked about couple that night. It wasn’t the shock that made them so discussed - instead it was the sheer relief that no one would _ever_ have to witness Dean and Seamus’ pining again.

Even the _Slytherins_ had bet on how much longer the boys could go without spontaneously combusting from the lack of resolution. Pansy had placed the winning bet just that morning; no one else had dared hope that the _Yule Ball_ of all things could be the end of such a long and… fruitless non-relationship. If only Pansy had known a couple of years earlier that this was all it would take, she would have fabricated an elaborate plan a _long_ ago. (Perhaps involving a few careful drops of Veritaserum…)

Pansy watched as Dean laughed nervously, his hands clasped awkwardly together in front of him. She watched as Seamus reached out to catch one of Dean’s hands between his own, pulling him insistently towards the other dancers; watched as the two started dancing together, soon blending seamlessly into the other pairs milling around. _They were certainly_ much _more graceful than Harry and Draco._

* * *

 Harry had finally ‘mastered’ the basic waltz. It had only taken… the majority of the night.

At the start of the evening, he had been planning on making his excuses after what he felt like would be an awkward, laborious half-hour with Draco - but there were now only twenty or so minutes left until the end of the night. Whilst it had been awkward at first ( _okay, so maybe a_ bit _longer than ‘at first’ - closer to the hour mark_ ), they had eventually managed to fall into easy conversation - albeit sometimes punctuated with restless silences.

Draco’s face still twisted into an almost imperceptible grimace whenever he looked down at Harry’s feet, but Harry only had to prod him for his face to smooth over, his mouth forming a reluctant smile.

 _His lips looked_ way _too soft for… for a…_ Harry’s train of thought crashed spectacularly when Draco elbowed him is the side.

“Hey!” Harry tried to sound indignant… and failed miserably. Draco didn’t even bother to respond to him, instead gesturing towards a far corner of the hall.

“Look, they really aren’t even _trying_ to be subtle, _are_ they?” Harry turned to look in the same direction as Draco, and had to fight back a laugh when he saw Dean and Seamus pressed so closely together that he was amazed they could still move. As they watched, the two of them made to leave their secluded spot far away from the other pairs, Seamus pulling Dean out into the fairy-lit gardens. Their hands were laced tightly together and Harry idly wondered at how well the two of them fitted with one another, as if they had always meant to be together. As they left, Dean ducked his head down to whisper something inaudible to Seamus, whose resulting smile, stretching almost ear to ear, made him look the happiest Harry had ever seen him.

* * *

 The Yule Ball was finally drawing to a close. Many of the pairs had drifted away, either to their dorms, or - like Dean and Seamus - to the gardens, trying to further prolong what had been (for most), an amazing night. Harry had been pleasantly surprised by the amount of people who had gone; it looked like most of those who had turned out the previous night had managed to find a partner. He suspected that, like he and Draco, they had wanted to see what it was like.

 _Because that’s all they were,_  he had had to keep reminding himself. Continuously. For the majority of the evening. _It was strange_ , Harry had thought detachedly, _if someone had told him that all it would take for him to feel something other than hate - or even indifference - towards Malfoy was a mere evening of conversation (and, admittedly,_ very _bad waltzing), Harry would have laughed in their face._ Now, Harry didn’t even _know_ what he felt towards Draco. _Certainly not indifference._

* * *

 The various professors were starting to shepherd the dawdling students away to bed, reminding them of the classes that awaited them the next day. As Pansy flounced past them, she paused and grabbed Draco’s arm, pulling him away from Harry to whisper something in his ear. Harry saw him turn bright red, even in the steadily dimming light emanating from the few remaining brackets on the walls.

“... dare you,” finished Pansy, Harry only just catching the tail end of the sentence. Draco looked about to chase her out of the Hall as she glided away, but as she looked pointedly back at him, and them towards Harry, he nodded grudgingly. Smirking in a decidedly _Slytherin_ manner, she finally left, and Harry became even more aware of how empty the Hall was.

Only he and Draco were there now, all the other students had disappeared off to their respective dorms  - or most likely to their Common Rooms to chatter excitedly about what had happened. Harry could already imagine the teasing Dean and Seamus would inevitably receive from the rest of the Gryffindors, but as he turned to Draco to ask what he thought about it all, his smile died on his lips. Draco was twisting his hands together, and he looked almost… _nervous_ . Harry didn’t think he’d ever _seen_ him this nervous - if that’s what it was. It was hard to tell; Draco was avoiding looking directly at Harry, and was instead favouring the hem of his robes. As he noticed Harry’s curious eyes on him, he looked up and took a steadying breath.

Impulsively, Harry reached out as if to grab one of Draco’s hands - but caught himself just in time. As if spurred on by this, Draco blurted something out almost too rapidly for Harry to process.

 _This must be about what Pansy had dared him to do_ , thought Harry distractedly, but he was too focussed on what Draco had asked to think too long on it.

“Hogsmeade. Next weekend?” Draco sounded more hesitant now, and Harry realised he hadn’t replied yet. _He was too busy being amazed that_ Draco _was asking him on a… whatever this was._

“I’d love to.”

Now, less impulsively, Harry _did_ grab Draco’s hand. Draco smirked at him, and, as the last torch flickered out, they left the hall in a comfortable silence.

 _This would, without a_ doubt _, give people something to talk about._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! if you're still reading this then THANK YOU! a quick comment would make my day (or night because lEts be real here) and kudos make me smile every time :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, that was fun.” Harry’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, and Draco laughed reluctantly - despite his best efforts to keep a straight face. “We should do it again some time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [originally posted separately for changed for ease of access]

“I can’t believe you actually agreed to this, Harry!”

“I actually think Ron’s right this time - don’t give me that look, Ronald - maybe you should think about it a bit more…”

Harry sighed loudly into his glass of pumpkin juice and said nothing in reply to either of them. This was the fourth time this morning that Ron and Hermione had tried to dissuade him from going out to Hogsmeade as he had been planning to. (The issue wasn’t Hogsmeade itself, of course, but who he was planning to go with.)

“I’m not saying I’m completely against it, per  _ se _ ; it’s just - what if he’s just tricking you,  and really he just wants to - to lure you out of Hogwarts and hex you or something?”

There was no point in replying; Harry had tried that the previous three times to no avail. Spurred on once again by the disapproving stares of the other Gryffindors huddled just slightly closer than normal (trying to make their eavesdropping more subtle - and failing miserably), she continued, the patronising strain in her voice becoming more and more irritating.

He tried to just ignore her - he really  _ did _ \- but finally he had had enough. Pushing his yet unfinished plate of toast away from him and downing the rest of his juice, he stood up quickly, grabbing his bag, and made to leave, mumbling something about needing to finish some piece of homework or another.

When he reached the Gryffindor Dorms, he slumped onto his bed, thankful that the rest of the house - in fact, most of the  _ school _ \- were still at breakfast. He  _ knew _ it would be like this if he agreed to go, and yet… it had never crossed his mind to turn Draco down.  _ He shouldn’t have told Ron and Hermione, though; thanks to them (or probably just Ron) the whole  _ house _ seemed to know.  _ Since the Yule Ball the previous week, he had been stopped at least half a  _ dozen _ times by Gryffindors clamouring to know variations on: “Why?”, “What do you think he’s planning?” and even “What are  _ you _ planning?”. Most of the times, it had been students from younger years, although Harry particularly remembered when, after Herbology one afternoon, Lavender Brown had been pushed towards him by the seemingly permanent gaggle of girls surrounding Romilda Vane. The Creevey brothers had also featured heavily in the ‘There must be something weird going on if you’ve agreed to this, Harry’ theme, although their questions were a lot more harmless and polite than  _ some _ that were being thrown around.

Harry stood by the doors to the Entrance Hall, fiddling nervously with the sleeve of one of his robes. The line of students queuing to have their names checked off Filch’s trailing list was diminishing rapidly, and there was still no sign of Draco.

Only now was it occuring to him that maybe Ron and Hermione had been right; maybe Draco  _ was  _ tricking him. Just as he was starting to head reluctantly back to the Common Room, someone barrelled into him, heading in the opposite direction and almost tripping over the last couple of stairs in their hurry to join the now almost non-existent line to leave Hogwarts.  _ Was that - _

“Draco?”  _ Maybe it wasn’t a prank after all… _

The boy spun around, looking more nervous than Harry had ever seen him. “I thought you must have gone already - I was just - Pansy was interrogating me - and -”

His apology was cut short by Filch, who barked out impatiently, “All students who wish to visit…” he slowly checked his piece of parchment, “... _ Hogsmeade _ must depart imminently.” He glared pointedly towards Harry and Draco, and they hurried to have their names checked off his list.

“Malfoy… Malfoy.” The derisive sneer in Filch’s voice as he searched for Draco’s name made the boy flinch noticeably. Harry had a sudden urge to comfort him, to reach out and touch him - but he didn’t know how. The moment was over quickly, Filch’s quill striking through Draco’s name and gesturing him towards the double doors.

“P...P...” Agonisingly slowly, Filch scanned the list for Harry’s name. “Potter?” Looking up to  _ indeed _ see Harry in front of him, Filch’s face morphed momentarial into a surprised expression. (It was  _ quite _ strange; Harry didn’t think he’d seen him looking anything but disgusted since he first arrived at Hogwarts.) “Well, well, well…”

Filch scored a jagged line through _Potter,_ _Harry_ and Harry wasted no time in joining Draco, who was waiting just outside of the Entrance Hall.

They walked in silence, punctuated only by the occasional awkward conversation starter that quickly fizzled out as fast as it had begun. Harry had almost started to regret agreeing to go to Hogsmeade with Draco - if it was just going to be like  _ this _ …

“So, uh, Potter?” Draco’s voice was clipped, and Harry thought he had a good idea of what he was thinking.

“Yeah?” They were nearing the edge of Hogsmeade now, the Shrieking Shack looking almost out of place in the daylight.

“Was this a mistake?”  _ It seemed like they  _ were  _ thinking along the same lines. _ Harry stopped, and pulled Draco gently to a standstill with him.

“I don’t  _ know _ , Draco. Last week - it all seemed easier last week.” Realising he still had a hand on Draco’s arm, he dropped his arm to his side, blushing slightly.

To his surprise, Draco reached down and grasped Harry’s hand in his own. “It  _ was _ , wasn’t it? But what’s to say it can’t be that easy now?”

They walked the rest of the way into Hogsmeade hand in hand, and although little more was said, the silence was now much less uncomfortable.

Harry was only mildly surprised that the very first shop Draco wanted to visit was Scrivenshaft’s. Watching him fret over all the different quills (all of which looked, to Harry, almost identical), Harry felt a sudden surge of affection that almost caught him off guard. Looking up from the two quills he was deciding between, Draco must have noticed something of it in Harry’s face, and smiled shyly back at him. When he had paid and they had left the shop, Draco slipped his hand back into Harry’s, pulling him towards The Three Broomsticks.

They sat down near the door, where it was quieter - and Harry suddenly had no idea of what to say. It was as if he had been Obliviated; his mind had gone completely blank. Just as during the walk over to Hogsmeade from Hogwarts, it seemed there was nothing to break the silence that was steadily becoming heavier and heavier by the minute.

Likewise, Draco was becoming more and more flustered. After the first agonising minutes, he scraped his chair purposefully back - seemingly as loud as he could - and went off to get them each a Butterbeer. When he returned with the drinks, Harry thought he looked slightly more put together, but as he tried to carefully place Harry’s mug down in front of him, something behind Harry distracted him. His attention shifting momentarily, Draco’s hold on the mug slipped, the contents spilling out onto the table and all down Harry’s robes. Draco cursed under his breath, and dropped to his knees to mop at the growing pool of Butterbeer on the floor.

“No; stop - it’s fine.” Harry quickly pulled out his wand and, with a quick  _ Scourgify _ (he’d become quite adept at it, having had to use it more than once himself for similar accidents), the spilled Butterbeer was no more.

Waving of Draco’s numerous apologies (“It’s no big deal, Draco - I’ve done it  _ so  _ many times you’d think I was a  _ troll _ or something!”), Harry got up to fetch another Butterbeer, only to return to the sight of Draco glaring fiercely towards a group of girls who had Harry had only just noticed. They were far by the loudest party in the inn - and upon catching sight of Romilda Vane in their midst, Harry immediately understood why.

Catching Draco’s eyes, Harry flicked his gaze towards the door and back, the silent offer hanging in the air between them. Draco’s shallow nod was all it took for Harry to down his Butterbeer and gently pulled Draco to his feet. They tried to leave as quietly as possible, but halfway to the door, Harry was ambushed one of Romilda’s already slightly drunk minions. He was shepherded towards the centre of the group towards the girl herself, who was clutching an illicit Firewhisky in one hand. Despite his protests, she draped her free arm over Harry’s shoulders, giggling at some joke only she was privy to. Fortunately, only a few seconds later, Draco managed to push his way through the horde to where Harry was. He pulled Harry roughly out of Romilda’s predatory hold, and dragged him out of the crowd, only stopping when they were outside.

“Well,  _ that _ was fun.” Harry’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, and Draco laughed reluctantly - despite his best efforts to keep a straight face. “We should do it again some time.”

A grin stretched across Draco’s face.”Are you asking me on a date, Potter?”

“You bet I am, Malfoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT I PROMISE THERE WILL BE NO MORE CHAPTERS

**Author's Note:**

> this is the longest thing I've written in one go for a while! let me know what you think, and leave kudos if you liked it :)


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